


We Are Forsaken

by 0zero_metallix0



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Gen, Undead Jaina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21683674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0zero_metallix0/pseuds/0zero_metallix0
Summary: “Jaina,” the Lich snapped, frost spreading across her body. “My name is Jaina Proudmoore, Banshee.”Sylvanas chuckled. “Very well, Jaina. We should move, quickly. It’s not safe here. Varimathras will send others.”
Relationships: Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Comments: 20
Kudos: 199





	We Are Forsaken

With a roar of pain and anger, Kel'Thuzad vanished in a flash of magic, his hastily cast teleport taking him to safety.  
  
Sylvanas tightened her grip on her bow as the frost lich that had driven him away floated in the air. It had taken half of her banshees, not to mention a powerful artefact, to distract and subdue the witch while she dealt with Arthas. An artefact that now lay on the ground, its power spent.  
  
If the mage turned violent, Sylvanas would need to act fast to end her.  
  
“I… I'm free…” the mage’s voice was soft, barely a whisper as she stared in horror at her hands. Drifting lower, her feet touched the ground, only for her legs to collapse beneath her.  
  
Dropping to her knees, the young woman let out a mournful cry. She couldn't cry, not really. None of the undead could -- tears were for the living after all -- but they could still feel grief.  
  
 _“We_ are free,” Sylvanas muttered, uncaring if the mage heard her or not, and lowered her bow.  
  
“And Arthas has escaped.”  
  
His trail was easy to spot. The heavy footprints and trailing lines of his cloak in the snow leading to where his horse had fallen. _Coward._  
  
Not that it mattered. She knew where he was going, and her poison would no doubt slow him down. The only question was if she could reach the shore before his undead horse could?  
  
Her ears twitched in irritation. She was a good Ranger, possibly even the best, but even she couldn't outrun a horse that had no need for rest, and she had no time to find one of her own.  
It galled her, but she would have to let Arthas go, for now.  
  
“My Lady, what should we do with the girl?” one of the Banshee asked, floating to her side.  
  
Turning her attention back to the mage, Sylvanas watched as the girl’s form changed, her body becoming more corporeal as layers of icy armour evaporated. She’d barely been out of her teens when Arthas had turned her, and he had taken great pains to preserve her beauty.  
  
If it wasn’t for her glowing blue eyes and unhealthy pallor, she could almost have passed for living.  
  
“Leave her,” Sylvanas said as she secured her bow to her back. “She’s not a threat, and we have pressing issues.”  
  
The rebellion in the city would soon be over, one way or another, and regardless of the outcome, she had no interest in lingering here. She needed to follow Arthas, to see him broken and bleeding before her.  
  
Looking toward the horizon, she cursed herself quietly. He would be halfway to the northern shore by now. Even if she followed, she would need a ship, men to crew it, and maybe even an army to reach Icecrown.  
  
She needed help, but who would be willing to aid her? She scowled at the thought.  
  
“Mistress?” The banshee asked. “I don’t understand. I thought you would be overjoyed?”  
  
“What joy is there in this curse? We are still undead, sister - still monstrosities. What are we if not slaves to this torment?”  
  
“We are free,” the Banshee said. Her voice was soft, but her eyes burned with determination. “Isn’t that enough?”  
  
Sylvanas hmmed to herself. Mentally, she was already at the coast, looking for ships that would take her across the ocean.  
  
Arthas had burned the ports during his purge, intending to trap the refugees before they could escape. Even so, there had to be smaller ships along the coast? Her banshees could possess the crew, force them to sail north.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by a portal opening, the dark void splitting the air and the Dreadlord Varimathras emerging. Sylvanas had to wonder what creature or spell he’d been using to spy on her.  
  
“Lady Sylvanas,” he smiled warmly, his arms wide. “I thought I should be the one to tell you that the city is now under my command. Such a shame you were unable to finish things here, but there will be other chances, I’m sure.”  
  
He let the sentence hang in the air, a self-satisfied smile on his face.  
  
“Regardless, I’ve come to offer you all a formal invitation to join our new order.”  
  
“My only interest was in seeing Arthas dead. I have no time for your petty politics or power-mongering.”  
  
“Careful milady, it would be unwise to incur our wrath. We are the future of these new… plaguelands, and you are both far too powerful to be left unchecked. I would urge you to reconsider…”  
  
“I lived as a slave long enough, Dreadlord,” Sylvanas snapped, her already short temper reaching its end. “I won’t relinquish my freedom by shackling myself to you fools.”  
  
With a sigh ,Varimathras shook his head. “So be it.”  
  
Dark magic sprang from his hands and portals tore open the air around them, Ghouls pouring forth.  
  
“Sisters, to me!” Sylvanas barked, raising her bow as the wails of banshees filled the air. It wasn’t enough, she knew she didn't have the numbers to drive back Varimathras and his undead, but she was determined to fight regardless.  
  
“No!” the scream echoed through the forest, the air crackling with arcane energy as the mage sprung to her feet, eyes glowing with power.  
  
“I won’t be taken again!” With a crack, cold filled the clearing, the ghouls trapped in pillars of ice or impaled on frozen spikes. It took Sylvanas but a moment to realise that none of her banshees had been touched by the spell.  
  
Spinning around, she brought her bow up and fired at the dreadlord, the arrow driving deep into his shoulder and disrupting whatever spell he was casting.  
  
Snarling, his form dissolved, vanishing into nothing before she could fire again.  
  
She turned her head, looking for even the slightest movement, ears alert for any sound beyond the panting of the mage. When nothing happened, Sylvanas started to relax. It would seem the Dreadlord had decided to flee for now.  
  
“Spread out, search the area and make sure we are alone!” Sylvanas barked to her banshees, lowering her bow and turning to the other woman.  
  
“Nicely done little mage.”  
  
“Jaina,” the woman snapped, frost spreading across her body. “My name is Jaina Proudmoore, _Banshee_.”  
  
Sylvanas chuckled, relieved that the mage seemed to have all her faculties. “Very well, _Jaina_. We should move, quickly. It’s not safe here. Varimathras will send others.”  
  
“Go where? A handful of banshees are hardly enough to hold off the legion, and _Arthas_ ” _-_ she spat the name - “will no doubt return eventually.”  
  
Looking to the sky, Sylvanas tried to quieten the rage that had filled her being for so long and listen to the instincts that had guided her as Ranger General.  
  
“Eastweald… for now. I’ll build up my forces, gather what free undead I can, and strike back at the Legion and the Lich King.”  
  
Jaina was quiet for a time, looking to the east, her glowing eyes narrowing at the black haze in the distance.  
  
“That is quite the plan. Are you sure we can make it?”  
  
“We?” the corners of her mouth twitched as Sylvanas looked at the little mage.  
  
“Yes, _we_. I will _not_ be enslaved again.”  
  
Sylvanas gave Jaina a long look. A mage of her power, enhanced by whatever ‘ _gifts’_ Arthas had given her, would make a valuable asset. “Very well, _we_ need to get moving.”  
  
Wordlessly recalling her banshees, Sylvanas started the long trek eastward, Jaina walking at her side.

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So yeah, undead/forsaken Jaina.


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